"If you like to provide them, and don't set the bally show on fire,"
he replied. "Anyhow, these two aren't supposed to notice anything even
when the row gets louder. Then it drops and you are heard outside
talking in whispers to the others--words of command and telling them
to keep back half-a-mo, and so on. See?"

"Doubtless introducing a spoken charm and repeating the words of an
incantation against omens, treachery, and other matters."

"Next a flap of the tent down on the floor is raised, and you
reconnoitre, looking your very worst and holding a knife between your
teeth and another in each hand. Wave a hand to your followers to keep
back--or come on: it makes no difference. Then you crawl in on your
stomach, give a terrific howl, and stab me in the back. That rolls me
under the curtain, and so lets me out. The missus ups with the
wood-chopper and stands before the cradle, while you yell and dance
round with the knives. That ought to be made 'the moment' of the whole
piece. The great thing is to make enough noise. If you can yell louder
than the talking-machine outfit on the next pitch we ought to turn
money away. While you are at it I start a fresh row outside--shouts,
cheers, groans, words of command and a paper bag or two. Seeing that
the game is up you make a rush at the old woman; she downs you with
the chopper, turns the lamp up full, shakes out a Union Jack over the
sleeping infant, and finally stands in her finest attitude with one
hand pointing impressively upwards and the other contemptuously
downwards just as Rule Britannia is played on the cornet outside and I
appear at the door in a general's full uniform and let down the
curtain."